Ann Marie Cox is one of those people who I wish I didn't know who she was. I can't figure out how or why I know her name. I know her notariety has something to do with a hooker. For while I thought that she had been the hooker. But I am told that no, she wrote about the hooker.

In the end, the perplexing question of why this woman has a job and why anyone cares what she thinks really defy easy answers. Is she even a real person or just some kind of performance art like Bruno? I can't really tell.

I know who Cox is RHARDIN. I just can't stand her. She is everything I dislike about Washington journalists; a cynical shallow, dogmatic medicrity who lives on a diet of fake hipness and warmed over conventional wisdom. The fact that Cox got a job beyond snarky collumnist for her sororiety weekly newspaper in college, letalone became Washington Editor of Time, says all you need to know about the depth and intelligence of the Washington Press Corps.